


Enemies and Saviours

by Hiilovetrash



Category: Far Cry, Far Cry 5, fc5 - Fandom
Genre: Character with PTSD, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Graphic violence in later chapters, Slow Burn, Violence in Later Chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:19:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiilovetrash/pseuds/Hiilovetrash
Summary: "Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?""I can't help but feel like we're a little more."__________________________________"You can't fix him.""No. But I can break him some more so he asks me to try."_________________________________"It can be only you, my child.""I know. I've been told countless times."_________________________________





	Enemies and Saviours

She had caught herself in this situation, running through the mountains, her body shaking for seemingly no reason because she wasn't scared, she wasn't cold, and the tiredness that slipped her mind was now long gone and replaced with the need for the chase. She could hear, no feel, the wolves closing in, yet their empty howls and bloodthirsty growls never did as much as bother her, but she still ran. The ground behind her seemed to tremble out of simple respect it held for the creature walking upon it. She never saw the soldier as a man, and at times he didn't seem like one ether, looking at her like she was his prey, his next meal, and sometimes, she even felt like it. He was behind her, only a few steps back, but she knew he was seemingly always two steps ahead. And still, she denied with all her might the possibility that he knew her, for really, he never did. God knows for how long they've been caught up in the chase, disturbing the Whitetail Mountain's wilderness, her running through the forest like a deer running away from a wolf, knowing its escape was unlikely. And yet, she still ran.

They soon reached an opening, a field that looked more dead than alive, tall, yellow grass covering it entirely. Her presence screamed 'I am the Deputy, shoot me', and she knew she had to get away, back into the forest, back where she wasn't such an easy target. She knew he could shoot her at any second he wanted, whether they were surrounded by trees or by nothing at all, yet he chose not to. He didn't want their chase to end so soon, not after what she had done to his sister, what she had done to him. She'd never admit to her wrongdoings, with the poor excuses such as doing it for the greater good, trying to be a hero. She was no hero, she was death itself, wreaking havoc with every step and spreading her wrath with every breath she took, her every move sending more poison into the ground of their garden, their home, the path she walked an endless trail of corpses, people who she mindlessly slaughtered simply out of self-righteousness. She had awakened a wrath within the soldier that he saw as long forgotten, something he hadn't experienced ever since his brothers found him, and he was going to make her realize this road had bumps, her decisions had consequences.

She was so close to the line where grass met trees and where she'd at least have a chance at survival. So close yet so far, she realized as she heard him pull his hunting knife out, patiently awaiting the thrilling feeling of a new wound being formed, deeper than the previous, the sickening feel of blood gushing out of her made her head spin every time she came one step closer to her grave. But the painful sensation never came, he had so many chances to strike her down, to pin her to the floor and peel her skin of bit by bit until she was begging for the sweet release that death would bring, yet he never took any, because he too knew, that no matter how much he claimed to know, he could never understand the woman that was one step away from him, from his claws. So, as a last warning, he gave her a last chance of redemption, for they both knew that if she left him now, things would never be the same, so when she most anticipated the red knife in her back, he stopped dead in his tracks, without a word, just looking at her. And she didn't even have to turn around to know the look in his eyes, predatory, yet beckoning, almost as if he was telling her to come back to where she belonged like she always did. This time it would be different, this time he'd know the disappointment of her leaving for good, of him not realizing sooner that she was his pet no more, that she was never his prized possession, she was never his to know, and he never knew her. She never slowed down, and he never took off running after her, for he could just watch this woman run off and disappear from his field of vision in a short, bittersweet minute.

She wanted to turn back, she really did, but she knew she'd be thrown back into one of those cages and conditioned, treated worse than she ever was. But now Pratt would have to suffer through whatever Jacob wanted, whatever he would have thrown at her, he was going to hit Pratt with, only times stronger. He wouldn't be able to take it for long, hell, she wondered if he would even be able to take it once. He managed to get her out, and she took off running, but as soon as the Herald found out, he radioed her, his low, gravely voice giving her the first chance to come back and not be shot on sight. Pratt told her she can't, under any and all circumstances come back if she didn't want to become another one of Jacob's prized tools for slaughter. She knew she couldn't just leave him, but as cruel as it was, what other choice did she have? Let him down, stay and throw away his effort, get them both killed, waste her chance to get an upper hand on the soldier? This was a sacrifice she had to make, and at that moment she realized Jacob had made her his own copy, someone who was willing to mercilessly sacrifice people for their own good. The thought made her sick to her stomach, remembering his little story about the war when he told her how he thoughtlessly devoured the person he considered a close friend up until that moment, simply for his own survival.

He turned around and started walking back towards the Center, where he'd have to have a nice little talk with Peaches. After all the mercy he'd shown the cocky deputy, it seemed as though he was ungrateful. Then, an idea reached passed through his thoughts. He decided to give his dear Rook one last warning, a sour goodbye, one last farewell. She heard the slight buzz of the radio before she heard an all too familiar voice speak up.

"You better keep running, little lamb, far away from my mountains, out of this region." He spoke in a low voice, words dripping with poison. She never stopped running, never felt her legs become sore, until now, when it hit her all at once. She almost fell but given the words of her predator, she couldn't stop if she wanted to save her head. There had to be a consequence, she just knew, he wouldn't just let his prized possession run around armed destroying everything in her path. She was right.

"Cause if you don't," he continued, his voice still threatening: "you can bid your friend goodbye." Pratt. He'd kill him for sure after this betrayal, or so to speak. She had to go for his sake. This whole situation just opened up the opportunity for her to go pay a visit to John, the man who already hated her with every fiber of his body, it wouldn't hurt to anger and provoke him more. She had already destroyed things in the youngest herald's area, from his silos to the many fuel trucks she found cruising around in Nick's plane. After claiming the ranch, the Deputy made sure to scavenge to everything and tease the daylight out of the 32-year-old, claiming that he had one too many plane models and that it wouldn't hurt to use some as firewood, earning John's promise to brutally murder her had she done so. She almost laughed at the thought, but now was no time to laugh. Now, she had to focus on Jacob.

"But don't worry pet, I'll have you at my knees the moment you decide to show up uninvited. So don't show up until the time comes, because I'll tell you when you need to come back home. For now, go." And she did, without hesitation, deciding she'd pay Dutch a visit before leaving to fuck with John.

She'd slipped through his fangs yet again, but who was he to say he didn't like the chase.


End file.
